


The Kid Was Alright But It Went To His Head

by tjstar



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, False Pregnancy, Hurt/Comfort, It's Not What It Seems, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Patrick DOES NOT have an eating disorder, Van Days, everyone is nervous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:44:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick thinks he's pregnant.<br/>Pete and Andy think Patrick has an eating disorder.<br/>Joe tries to ignore all the shit that happens in the band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kid Was Alright But It Went To His Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eivery_al](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eivery_al/gifts).



First time is always awkward. Patrick doesn’t believe in stories about first sexual experience in which it all goes fantastically good. What the hell, you don’t even know your partner’s body, you can’t fuck like a porn-star! But maybe, Patrick just tries to calm himself, because his first time was spontaneous and awkward. That’s all.

Too fast, too clumsy, painfully dry and very stupid; _‘we’re both clean, and I don’t have a condom, but I want you. Do you want it? Cool’._ Well, probably, Pete was great, but Patrick wasn’t, and he doesn’t feel like he’s a super macho. He’s sticky, sweaty, and it’s uncomfortable, but Pete smiles at him, and it makes things somewhat better. Really, sex is overrated. Maybe it’s all so bad just because it was his — Patrick’s attempts to convince himself are miserable — first time. He repeats it again and again, but it’s not working.

“You’re amazing,” Pete whispers into Patrick’s ear. Actually, Patrick’s body hurts, and he’s not so proud of himself that he lost his virginity to his boyfriend at the backseat of an old van while Joe and Andy are still in that dirty club. But he’s happy no one had seen his fiasco.

Patrick wants to confess ‘sorry, but I still don’t really know what an orgasm feels like’, but he guesses it would be rude. Pete teases him; he’s a nice guy, but in recent days he jokes about _pregnancy_ almost non-stop, and it’s strange, honestly. It’s like Pete wants something from Patrick even if he knows it’s not something that will happen.

“Imagine, we are married, we have kids,” Pete nuzzles to Patrick’s neck like they’re in the bed now, and there’s no danger of being caught. “Hey, talk to me!”

Patrick just snorts and zips his jeans up.

 

*** 

All the next month and a half, Joe and Andy are amazed by the fact that Patrick literally _hisses_ when Pete moves to him closer than two feet. It’s a brand new Pete-Patrick thing, and it’s none of their business, but _they go on tour,_ and it’s not just one concert in a small bar like they used to, it’s a bunch of shows in different places.

Hopefully, this big project is going to be successful. Besides, they’re working on album, and all of them are very nervous.

Andy just watches, and he’s glad that lead singer and bassist are not going to kill each other. Joe suggests it’s just calm before the storm.

 

***

And then all that weird shit starts. Actually, Patrick can sleep anywhere in any position, and he used to feel Pete’s body next to him, lying on the van’s seat (he went through that ‘don’t touch me’ stage); Patrick’s warm and soft according to Pete’s words, but he doesn’t enjoy being Pete’s personal pillow. Pete kicks in his sleep, and his head rests on Patrick’s stomach; suddenly Patrick gets too hot, and he wants to go outside, and also he’s definitely going to throw up. Damn. Patrick tries to sit up or move, and he turns away, but Pete clings to him, _Pete owns him,_ and Patrick is really close to embarrass himself, and when he opens his mouth to warn Pete, it finally happens.

It slightly smells like beer, and Patrick just groans in frustration.

“What?” Pete jumps up, accidentally hitting Patrick’s stomach once again and almost knocking him out. “What the fuck, Trick?”

It’s not a good morning.

Patrick shrugs; now the floor in their vehicle is even dirtier. Attracted by the noise, Andy wakes up and looks at Patrick with concern, and he envies to Joe; they’re almost the same age, but motherfucker Trohman can drink like a pro, and Patrick always ends up like… this. By the way, Joe doesn’t wake up.

Patrick hopes his bandmates are not going to make a scene about the vomit between the seats in the van.

“I’ll clean it,” Patrick sighs. It’s a _hangover,_ and of course he can handle it. But when he tries to sit up, he starts to feel even worse. “Later,” he adds.

“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” Pete grabs his old bandana, intending to clean the mess.

 Patrick nods; he’s grateful he doesn’t need to get up right now, and maybe Pete is a cool boyfriend.

 

***

Fighting before the show is not a good sign; Patrick is nervous, and Pete just laughs at his anxiety.

For his own good, Joe keeps silence, because his comments are always the worst. 

“Relax, it will be okay,” Pete pats Patrick’s shoulder, and he’s about to explode. He wants to hit Pete without any reason, he wants to yell and cry, and he can’t go to stage in this state.

At the moment, he doesn’t even want to be in this band; he’s agreed to be a drummer or play stupid (useless, he thinks) trumpet, but that asshole Wentz forced him to be a lead singer. ‘Fuck you,’ Patrick wants to say.

“Fuck you,” Patrick exhales, brushing Pete’s hand off of his shoulder.

Andy tries to play a role of a peacemaker, because Patrick can be a hurricane when he’s angry, and all of them know it, especially Patrick, who leans his back against the wall, glaring at Pete.

“Guys, stop it,” Andy says, getting ready to listen to the stream of Patrick’s curses. “We’re all in the same team, okay? Let’s go and just play the show, and you two can solve your problems in the hotel.”

It sounds vulgarly, but Patrick nods, ignoring Joe’s derisive look.

“Stop acting like a pregnant girl,” it’s supposed to be a joke, and Joe giggles as he tells that, but it makes sense. The worst comment, again.

Pete just gives them a huge grin.

“Are you serious? Kids are cool, and I want a kid, _we_ want a kid, right, Patrick?

Patrick flips him off.

 

***

Next morning, he still feels weird and strange, and he has no explanation for it. For Patrick’s happiness, it’s their day off, but he shares the hotel room with Pete, and it means he can forget about the restful life. When Pete climbs onto his bed, Patrick just prays silently for Pete’s prudence.

“Hey, I know what you want!” Pete’s palm slides to the waistband of Patrick’s boxers. “Can I?..”

“No. I’m not in the mood,” Patrick slaps Pete’s arm.

Sickness returns, and he doesn’t want to repeat yesterday’s incident, so he doesn’t let Pete hug him again. Pete is really disappointed when his _boyfriend_ runs out of the room; Patrick barely holds the contents of his stomach on their place, trying not to show his malaise.

 

***

If the Entrance to Hell exists, Patrick has found it. It’s the most horrible week in his life; he skips breakfasts and he doesn’t eat in the evenings, but at mornings he wakes up with an ass-kicking nausea. He’s tired all the time, he’s grumpy, and his back hurts when he holds his guitar. Patrick googled the symptoms and — oh God he’s about to become a murderer because of those crappy jokes — it really resembles the pregnancy; but it’s _impossible_. Besides, he had sex just once in his life, and despite Pete’s convictions that _second time will be better,_ he can’t accept it. Patrick wants it, and he likes Pete, but he just needs to have some time.

Especially now.

Pete discusses about _kids,_ and Andy agrees it’s _cool_ while Joe and Patrick play cards at the backseat; Patrick forgot where they are driving, and now he forgets everything; he can’t concentrate, and he’s not ready to sing tonight.  Patrick is upset, because his bandmates don’t understand him; Patrick tells them that he feels something like a stage fright, but Pete and Andy say in unison he’s angry because he’s hungry. Yes, he is, but what’s the point in eating dinner, if in the morning it will be in the toilet bowl or on the van’s floor? Patrick always eats lunch, and he guesses it’s not enough for him with his frantic pace of life, but he vomits every morning anyway.

Joe wins again, and Pete thinks up some crazy names for his future children.

“Can we, like, stop?” Patrick asks, interrupting Pete’s dreams about happy family life (now he’s on the stage where Patrick sings lullabies to their adopted _twins_ ).

“Man, have patience. Fifteen minutes, okay?” Andy’s voice from the driver’s seat sounds calmly like he talks to a crybaby.

Patrick is not a crybaby, it’s just motion sickness, and he wants to stop this rattletrap. An hour earlier, Pete forced him to eat fries at McDonalds (it was 6:30 a.m. and Patrick wasn’t hungry, but Pete just pretended not to notice how Patrick suffers). And now his body is going to reject it.

“Of course,” Patrick mumbles, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth.

 

***

Patrick thought he will buy his first pregnancy test at thirty (for example) for his girlfriend or wife, wishing the child was born. And now he feels like he is that pregnant girlfriend, but he’s eighteen-year-old, and he can’t be a mutant with female reproductive system. At least, Patrick hopes so.

People in the pharmacy look at him accusingly, and Patrick hears whispers behind his back as he tells to the lady behind the counter what he wants to buy.

“What a shame,” some woman hisses when Patrick takes his purchase. “If he was _my_ son…”

“But I’m not _your_ son,” Patrick replies, turning to her.

He’s afraid he can say something really rude, because he _wants to,_ but he just heads to the exit hurriedly; that woman barks something, but Patrick doesn’t care. He has enough problems without hysterical ladies in public places.

Running makes him dizzy, but he has to complete that stupid ‘I’m not pregnant’ mission; he almost knocks some poor guy off his feet when he like a rocket crosses the hall of a small bar. He should end it all before Pete or Andy (or even Joe, who tries to ignore all this shit) will catch him.

“Where’s the restroom?” Patrick probably sounds like a maniac, but his thing is really _important._ Patrick’s victim waves his hand at the side instead of answering. “Oh thank you, have a nice day!” Patrick shouts back politely, speeding up in that direction.  

After a few terrible minutes of waiting in the men’s restroom, Patrick can’t believe his eyes. He removes his glasses, wipes them and puts them back on the bridge of his nose. Nothing changes. Two-fucking-lines. Two lines and a smiley face near the tiny window with Patrick’s result. Patrick hates that smiley face. He can’t believe, but he’s scared, and what if it’s true? What if he can have a baby, _Pete’s baby,_ but how to talk to him about it?

 _Pregnant_. It’s not a result, it’s the verdict.

The test says it’s like 80% true.

Patrick pulls his t-shirt up and pokes his stomach, looking at the mirror above the sink. He’s not like those pregnant girls he’d ever seen; he has no breasts, he doesn’t know much about menstruation, and he’s afraid of the process of childbirth.

He can’t imagine how he could let this happen. It’s a mistake. Two months have passed since he and Pete had that awkward sex, and now Patrick’s stomach isn’t even bigger than before; it’s just… not flat. Besides, Patrick can even see the faint outlines of his ribs under his skin, and it means he didn’t gain weight, maybe just a little. Fucking unbelievable.

Patrick wants to break this damned stick in his hand, but he shoves it into the pocket of his jeans.

He’s nervous as hell, and he tastes those fries (goodbye, fast-food) at the back of his throat; with the loud painfully moan Patrick kneels in front of the toilet, getting used to this disgusting morning routine.

8:45 a.m. Welcome to the new life.

 

*** 

“Woah, man, are you okay?” Andy asks as Patrick falls straight into his arms near the bathroom in that unknown bar. He obviously suspects something, and _he watches_ ; Andy heard the sounds of retching, and he’s sure that throwing up will ruin Patrick’s vocal chords. He has to stop it. Or Pete should talk to Patrick.

“Yeah, I’m just… Shit,” Patrick mutters, trying to stand on his trembling legs without Andy’s support, but failing. He doesn’t want to meet Andy right now, but he’s _everywhere,_ and Patrick’s pretty sure that Andy follows him (it couldn’t be a coincidence; Patrick’s surprised that Pete isn’t here for a company), so it’s even good; he will help him to get back into the van.

“What’s wrong?” the drummer holds his friend upright as the things become more and more clear; Andy winces at Patrick’s hoarse voice.

“I’m fine, I just want to sit down. And mint gum,” Patrick responds, hanging on Andy’s shoulder.

The drummer sighs and keeps dragging his friend back to the van. Andy has a lot of questions like ‘what the hell?’ Is that all because of Patrick’s diffidence? Does he prefer this unhealthy way? Andy realizes, Patrick isn’t feeling well, and he doesn’t want to put a pressure on the lead singer; his relationship with Pete is problematic, and they both are not the calmest people in the Universe.

Andy can admit it. But Patrick needs a help.

 

***

Their shows are too energetic, and Patrick can’t get into the rhythm; he wants to crash his guitar and walk off into the sunset like it’s a pathetic movie, and he doesn’t have to look at the metaphorical explosions in his head, in his band. In _their_ band. Patrick plays and sings, he even smiles at public, feeling like a robot or zombie. It’s hard to avoid his bandmates, but Patrick pretends he’s invisible, and he knows he’s a bitch, but he doesn’t know what to do. He wants another test, maybe he wants medical examination, he isn’t sure.

Two days of silence in the van, in hotel rooms, everywhere; they’re just playing their roles onstage. Behind the scenes, Pete doesn’t touch him, doesn’t kiss him and doesn’t talk to him.

“You are different now,” Joe says after the concert. Patrick shrugs wordlessly, shoving the guitar into the case, and it falls on the floor with a sad ringing; his hands are shaking. “Really, we want to see _our_ Patrick, not you,” guitarist continues.

Patrick hides his face under his trucker hat and takes his backpack. He’s slightly glad it was their last show, and tomorrow he’ll be home. Maybe his family will give him an advice; but they don’t know anything about him and Pete.

“I think you don’t care. Well, it looks like,” Patrick responds, and then he hears a loud desperate sigh.

“I know. But _he_ wants to say something,” Joe grabs his bag and goes out of the door.

Being killed in the dressing room by the hands of the bassist of his band isn’t Patrick’s biggest dream. He flops down onto the small broken couch, waiting for Pete; he’ll come, he will call Patrick the worst boyfriend ever, and it all will be over.

Maybe they can stay friends.

“Hey, Trick…” Pete’s voice doesn’t sound like he’s going to yell at Patrick or scold him.

Patrick shivers, getting ready to hear all what Pete wants to say. He starts insinuatingly, and Patrick doesn’t even understand this topic at first.

“What are you doing with yourself? You’re puking and then you are starving yourself. Why?” the bassist enters the room and sits down next to the lead singer.

“Um… Pete, wait…” Patrick starts defending himself, but Pete cuts him off.

“All this week, I noticed. Mood swings and all that shit. Me and Andy googled it, and it’s not too late, you know, together _we_ can cope with your _eating disorder_ …” Pete’s eyes are incredibly sad.

Wow. Patrick didn’t expect Pete wants to talk about _this thing,_ and now he can’t find the words, because Pete’s opinion sounds more logical than Patrick’s explanation. But he tries anyway.

“Pete, no. It’s not an eating disorder. I’m just freaking out… Because of that stupid pregnancy test!!” he blurts out and fails his attempts to disappear.

Of course, no one cares about that stick with two lines, no one, they are just thinking about food, and Patrick feels guilty, because he is unable to eat properly.

“What? Test?!” Pete wants to scream _‘do you have a pregnant girlfriend, little motherfucker’ ,_ but something in Patrick’s glance stops him.

“Yes! Positive,” Patrick bites his bottom lip. “I’m not sure it’s true, but whatever. Will you go with me to the ultrasound examination? It’s… It’s weird, but I think I should…”

Pete hugs him, and for the first time in two month Patrick hugs him back; they’re cuddling on the couch, and Pete places his hand on Patrick’s stomach gently, but Patrick flinches and shakes his head.

“What? I think it’s a miracle,” Pete pouts.

“It’s like 80%, but I hope I’m still in that 20%-group,” Patrick sighs. “Really, Pete I don’t want to have _it_ inside of me.”

“Well, it’s just a baby. Or a crappy cheap test,” Pete _wishes_ it was the right result.

He’s ready to believe in any bullshit even if it’s crazy; morning sickness, pregnancy — it’s not so impossible, and he’s gonna get it. Pete wants _healthy_ and _happy_ boyfriend who doesn’t force himself to vomit; he worries about Patrick, and that’s why he listens to his silly explanations. Of course, it’s the weirdest way ever, but who knows? The thought about _their_ baby makes him stronger, and Pete feels like he takes a special place in Patrick’s life. He jokes about their kids since their first meeting, and now, when they’re officially dating… Pete thinks, he’s ready to be a father, and maybe it’s his real chance.

Automatically, Pete reaches his hand to Patrick’s stomach again, but he just moves away.

“I have 20% of my dream of being normal,” Patrick chuckles.

“You are anyway normal,” Pete responds and gets up from the couch.

He decides to take his and Patrick’s bags; okay, they aren’t sure, but what if he’s really pregnant, and these bags and guitarcases are heavy, and Pete doesn’t want to bother Patrick for hauling them.

The van is waiting. Their tour is over, and all of them need to get some rest without journalists and other curious persons. Finally. But Pete guesses it’s the most disturbing period in his life let alone in Patrick’s.

 

***

“Are you kidding me?” the doctor,  a dark-haired woman with the nametag ‘Asher’ on her white coat asks. “What do you mean, _he’s_ pregnant?”

Pete and Patrick are trying to get a consultation at the specialist’s office; this level is even more awkward than their sex in the van. It’s kind of funny, but none of them wants to smile.

“Well… He has symptoms, right?” Pete shakes Patrick’s shoulder not to let him fall into a silent hysteria. Patrick nods wordlessly. “And the test was positive…”

Dr. Asher looks at them mistrustfully.

“One test? I think, it’s pointless… But anyway. You’re here, and who knows, maybe I will be the first obstetrician who will determine male pregnancy,” the woman guesses.

For their luckiness, she agrees to perform the examination of Patrick’s ~~female~~ reproductive system (she’s amazed by his medical history — Patrick is a pretty healthy guy at all); it’s not so pleasant, and it’s creepy, but this way they can get answers for their questions.

Actually, Patrick is about to feel how the baby moves inside of his stomach, and he convinces himself it’s just his imagination. He feels cold watery gel spreading on his bare belly, and Dr. Asher makes some manipulations with the probe, moving it on his pelvis area. Finally they can see a black-white-grey picture on the monitor.

Patrick tries to ignore the pressure of probe on his full bladder; he just looks at the picture, distracting himself. Pete acts like a thoughtful baby-daddy.

“What? Is that… What’s this?!” he points his finger at the shadows.

“Nothing. No pregnancy, relax, guys,” Dr. Asher sighs.

Patrick doesn’t want to relax. He wants to go to restroom. Now.

Patrick crosses his arms over his chest, still lying on his back on the exam table. Pete gives him a sad glance like they are a married couple who can’t have children, but Patrick just smirks. Then he takes a paper towel and wipes the gel off his stomach and adjusts his t-shirt, slightly blushing when Pete asks a question.

“What’s wrong with him?” Pete takes his boyfriend’s hand.

Like it is Patrick’s fault that he can’t give a birth to baby. Maybe Pete’s twenty-three-year-old, and he’s ready for all these family things, but Patrick is just eighteen, and he can’t get rid of the feeling he is /still/ inexperienced like a virgin. The thought of having sex with him supposed to be a crime.

But now he feels a little less pregnant.

“Hormones, probably. We can hospitalize him for full examination, but honestly, I’m sure he’s healthy. I can talk to his parents,” the doctor offers.

“Oh no. Please, no. My mom doesn’t know… I swear, I’m not going to puke in the mornings anymore!” Patrick can’t stop his stream of words, and Pete wraps his hands around Patrick’s shoulders, hugging him.

“I thought, it was eating disorder,” Pete confesses.

“But my… _friends_ are always joking that I’m pregnant, and…” Patrick trails off, reeling satisfied and confused at the same time.

Shit, now Patrick’s sure it was just stomach flu or food poisoning. Don’t trust Google and questionable medical websites.

“It looks like a false pregnancy. It’s a rare phenomenon, but it happens,” the obstetrician gets ready to give a lecture, turning to Patrick. “Well, look. Your boyfriend wants kids, you don’t. You are subconsciously afraid of being pregnant even if you can’t. That’s why you feel it and that’s why the test was positive,” Dr. Asher tries to explain this situation from the psychological point of view. “But probably, it was just bad-quality test. You can do it again, if you want to.”

Oh yes, Patrick’s scared of his strange state. What if he has a disease which shows the same symptoms as pregnancy? Especially, _hormones —_ it’s a pretty dangerous thing. He decides to buy more tests today, and if at least one of them will be positive again, he’ll go to full examination, with blood tests and other.

“How to stop it?” Pete is too worried, and Patrick thinks suddenly it’s his turn to laugh.

“Don’t press on him. Call me, if you will notice something suspicious,” she smiles softly. “And... You look cute together.”

It’s an axiom.

After going out of the office’s door, Patrick runs to the bathroom with the happiest ‘FINALLY!’ yell in his life.

Pete admits, Patrick is too young to have a baby.

 

***

Romantic evening in Pete’s bedroom is not as romantic as it’s supposed to be; Patrick sits on the bed with a bowl full of pasta with cheese, and he finally can eat without the fear of morning sickness. The doctor said he will never feel it again. Besides, Pete bought five different pregnancy tests, and all of them have shown a negative result. Not pregnant. Not sick. Anymore.

“I’m so happy that I’m not a mutant,” Patrick says trustingly, leaning close to Pete’s side.

“I thought I did a miracle,” Pete can’t help but sounds disappointed a little.

Pete realizes he’s a lucky guy, he and Patrick are the greatest couple even if their desires are not the same.

“It wasn’t the best moment in my life,” Patrick shudders slightly, remembering that fateful day. “But the second time will be better?”

“Do you want it?” Pete can’t believe his happiness, but he doesn’t want to ruin something again.

“Yeah… We’re ready for everything, aren’t we?” Patrick places an empty bowl onto the nightstand.

“I think so,” Pete rubs Patrick’s stomach, feeling sorrow about their non-existent child.    

“By the way, we can adopt someone…” Patrick smiles, noticing cheerful sparkles in Pete’s eyes. “Later,” he adds, catching Pete’s lips into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> my friend forced me to write this and i'm sorry if it's gross and illogical.  
> i can't write proper mpreg so it's just a false preg (i messed up some medical details, i know) and it's my weirdest fic i guess.  
> \----  
> feel free to tell me if anything is wrong /i don't speak english/


End file.
